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C J Dennis - Song of Insane Gardener
Work rating: Low

Oh, I dance upon the lawn in the cold, white dawn,
   And I gloat upon the corpses of a countless million slain;
Where the frost about my feet spreads its winter winding sheet
   There I chuckle and I chortle as I chant my mad refrain;
"Lime and sulphur, Paris green, arsenate of lead,
Benzole couldn`t kill `em; but they`re dead, dead, dead."

Men have said I went insane when the Summer brought its bane:
   Beetle, bug, and butterfly, weevil, wog and worm,
And a thousand million thrips with my garden came to grips
   Plus a plague of things that fly and creep and crawl and squirm.
Lime and sulphur, Paris green, arsenate of lead,
They sneered at `em, and leered at `em, and gaily gorged ahead.

They fell upon my fancy phlox, hyacinths and hollyhocks;
   Amaryllis, antirrhinum, lupin, lily, all were lost.
All my garden`s vanished glory now remained a sorry story,
   While, dismayed, I sprayed and sprayed and reckoned not the cost.
Lime and sulphur, Paris green, arsenate of lead --
Vain were these till nights afreeze dire destruction spread.

Lifeless lie the pupa cases, larvae leave no least lone traces.
   Apphis eggs (if there be any) are a pest now haply past.
With a mad song in my throat, in the dawn I dance, I gloat;
   For my eveil days have ended, and revenge is here at last.
Vain the Paris green, the sulphur; vain the arsenate of lead;
Fourteen frosty nights have finsihed all the olden dread.

So I dance upon the lawn in the cold, white dawn,
   And I chortle o`er cadavers of a countless million slain.
Men may moan and deem it sad, vowing that I am as mad
   As a hatter.  what`s it matter?  Join my maniac`s refrain:
"Lime and sulphur, Paris green, arsenate of lead,
Benzole couldn`t kill `em; but they`re dead, dead, dead."
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